The Curse
by lotusblake
Summary: Like a curse, after spending the night in the infirmary, Draco and Ginny find that they can’t seem to avoid running in to each other. But little does Ginny know that she IS cursed, and has been for years. Draco Malfoy may be the only one who can save he
1. And so it begins

  
**The Curse   
**by LotusBlake  
  
_Disclaimer: All characters contained in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, I do not own anything but my tiny wisp of a plot!  
_  
  
  
Ginny Wealsey yawned as she walked to the Great Hall for breakfast, creeping quietly down the silent halls, her footsteps the only sound. She was up long before anyone else having had a nightmare about that awful Malfoy boy. After having it, she could not get back to sleep - his face kept flashing in her mind, with that ever-present smirk on his face.   
  
But, miracle of miracles, when she reached the Great Hall, there was only one other occupant...  
  
Ginny couldn't tell who it was at first. All she could see of him was the back of his blond head, hunched over a sheet of parchment. _It must be Zacharias Smith,_ Ginny thought. Zacharias was a whiney Hufflepuff, who seemed to love complaining, and he was one person she was not in the mood to talk with. Ignoring his presence, Ginny slipped into a seat at the Gryffindor table and pulled out a sheaf of paper and quill. Other than the nightmare she had experienced, the reason Ginny came down so early was to get some of her homework done. The professors loved piling homework on them during the first term, as if testing how much they could handle. Snape by far was the worst: Ginny needed to write 16 inches on the usefulness of Demiguise hair for him, but she only had one sentence. _The hair of a Demiguise is extremely useful to wizards today._ What was worse, the assignment was due that morning.  
  
Dipping her quill in a bottle of ink, Ginny closed her eyes, pondering what to write next. _ .are very interesting creatures, themselves, but their hair is what makes them important ?' What on earth is a Demiguise, anyway?   
_  
Doing some last minute homework, Weasley? A voice drawled, interrupting her thoughts.   
  
Ginny's blood turned cold, and slowly she turned around, hoping it wasn't whom she thought it was. Her eyes met a curling sneer and pale face that could only belong to one person—and it most certainly was not Zacharias Smith.   
  
The sight of him standing there, his eyes raking up her body made Ginny feel physically ill. He looked exactly the way he did in her dream... Frowning, Ginny tried to erase the haunting nightmare from her memory. _It wasn't real,_ she told herself. If only she could believe it.  
  
What do you want, Malfoy? Ginny said, gathering up every ounce of her Gryffindor courage.  
  
If I had a sickle for every time I heard that Look, Wealsey, I'm not going to explain myself to you.  
  
Ginny wished she could wipe that smirk off his pointed face. Did you come over here to ask me to Hogsmeade? Because I'd have to say no— I don't date ferrets.  
  
Instead of blushing, as Ginny had hoped, Draco's smirk widened. You know, Weasley, anyone who told you to be yourself couldn't have given worse advice.  
  
Ginny flushed. Malfoy, if you've done what you came to do, would you mind going? Really, I've got a lot of work to do—  
  
As I can see, his silver eyes flickered to the parchment she had been writing on. Demiguise hair interesting. Tell me, Weasley, do you even know what a demiguise is?  
  
  
  
Draco arched his eyebrows. Allow me to enlighten you— Merlin knows you need it. Demiguises are large ape-like creatures with long silvery hair used in weaving invisibility cloaks. If woven correctly, it can give the wearer complete invisibility.  
  
I knew what a demiguise was, Ginny lied.  
  
Well, in any case, at least, you do now. Draco turned on his heel, and strode over to the Slytherin table, his robes billowing behind him. _What? That's it?_ Ginny looked curiously after Malfoy, who was now sitting back at the Slytherin table, a book in his hand. What had happened to Malfoy's usual cacophony of snide remarks about her family or her wealth? He couldn't have changedcould he have?  
  
Ginny suddenly wished there were more students in the Great Hall. She didn't feel comfortable being alone with a Malfoy. Even if he had changed, she would still always think of him as that evil, snobby bully that picked on her big brother.  
  
Sighing, Ginny lifted her quill once more, scratching down everything Malfoy had told her. _It's odd,_ Ginny thought after she had finished writing. _Why would Malfoy try to help me like that?_ Suddenly, a thought hit Ginny like a jolt of lightning. _Of course! He was lying to me. _Why hadn't she thought of it before? Why had she so innocently written an entire essay based on the words of one boy—especially one who seemed to be out to get her! _Malfoy must be having a good laugh right now. Why do I have to be so trusting?_   
  
Crumpling the parchment in her hands, Ginny stole a glance at Malfoy. From where she sat, she could see that he was elegantly sipping from his goblet, his eyes glued to a book resting on his long hands.   
  
It was strange— Malfoy looked a lot less sinister when he was reading. His features seemed to soften and the way his hair fell into his face caused him to look almost angelic. Blinking, Ginny looked back and suddenly there was the old Malfoy looking up from his book, his grey eyes sneering at her.  
  
The red-haired girl quickly looked away, a blush rising to her cheeks. She did not want Malfoy to think that she had been staring.   
  
Ginny took a sip of pumpkin juice from her tall goblet. The cool liquid's flavour burst in her mouth—but it was not the taste that Ginny would have expected from an ordinary mouthful of pumpkin juice. The drink was somehow off, and there was an after-taste that just did not seem right. Ginny came to the conclusion that it tasted a bit like rotten eggs and sludge— most certainty not the ideal taste of a beverage.   
  
Ginny Weasley was just about to ponder why her beverage had such an odd taste when suddenly and with great gusto, the doors to the Great Hall flew open.   
  
What on earth—   
  
Ginny craned her neck to see a small house elf with a terrified expression on his face dash in, shaking like leaf and looking as if he had done something terribly wrong. Ginny chanced a look at Malfoy, who had dropped his book and was looking mildly annoyed at the elf's appearance.  
  
No one followed after the house elf, and again Ginny wished that she wasn't alone with Malfoy.  
  
  
The house elf was wearing a worn rag and his large eyes were red-rimmed from what Ginny assumed had been tears. Frantically, he looked around the Great Hall, as if searching for something that no one else could see. She could barely hear him mumbling to himself, Master Dumbledore hasn't come to breakfast yet. Oh, but look who has! Two students have come early— not good not good at all. How does Dippy tell them?  
  
  
Tell us what? Ginny asked, dreading the answer.  
  
The house elf blinked and then suddenly bursted into hysteric tears. Not knowing what else to do, Ginny raced up to him and kneeling she offered him a worn handkerchief. The elf did not accept it, and instead began wailing even louder, tears pouring down his face.   
  
What happened? What's going on? Ginny asked frantically, noticing in the corner of her eye that Malfoy had come up next to her, looking amused at Ginny's confusion and the elf's frantic state.  
  
  
Apparently trying to collect himself, the house elf opened his mouth. Miss, Dippy has done a terrible thing!  
  
  
  
  
_Author's Note: Take small moment of your time to review, please! I'll feel much more compelled to keep writing if I get some feedback--any type is welcomed!   
_


	2. Poison in the Pumpkin Juice

_Disclaimer: All characters contained in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, I do not own anything at all besides this little plot!  
_  
  
  
  
_Author's Note_: Wow, thanks to everyone who left a review! A heaping mountain of love goes out to Allison, koolenmoon, Anjelline, mandy, Jbooger, Claire, Bottled Emotions, Kristin, Naomi, Flaming Bubbles of Death, Musii, Daintress and Eliza Starr. By the way, you can learn more about Demiguises in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, by the illustrious J.K. Rowling.  
  
  
**The Curse  
**By LotusBlake  
  
Chapter 2  
  
What? What terrible thing? What are you talking about? Ginny asked, questions popping up in her head faster than she could say house elf.   
  
The little elf that called himself Dippy cringed, his bat-like ears flapping from side to side. Dippy is preferring not to say'tis an embarrassment to house-elves what he did.  
  
Ginny frowned as she looked down at the strange creature. She really didn't know a whole lot about house elves. Her family couldn't afford one, and the ones at Hogwarts generally kept to themselves and were rarely seen at all. In fact, Ginny wouldn't have known house elves worked at Hogwarts had it not been for Hermione Granger's silly S.P.E.W. organization.   
  
The redhead decided to take another stab at luring the information out of him. But if the terrible thing has to do with us, she glanced at Malfoy, hoping that he would note the way she so kindly included him in that us'. Then you really should tell us. We have the right to know.  
  
The house elf's enormous eyes widened like two tennis balls. Dippy supposes he could tell. Master Dumbledore is a great man and may not punish Dippy for what he did  
  
Ginny nodded, trying hard not to put pressure on the little elf. It turned out she didn't need to—Malfoy did it for her. Well? Are you going to tell me or not? Out with it, Snippy, I haven't got all day to listen to your foolish antics.  
  
It's Dippy. Ginny corrected.  
  
Pardon me, but you've obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a damn."  


His face grew hard and cold and for a split second Ginny could have sworn she was looking into the face of Lucius Malfoy. The thought of that man made Ginny's blood pound in her ears. She despised everything about Malfoy Senior.  
  
Dippy isn't going to tell you anything if you get his name wrong! Ginny shot back, staring into Draco's searing grey eyes. She turned back to the house elf. Go on, Dippy, it's all right. You won't get punished if you tell us.   
  
Dippy didn't reply and he seemed lost in thought. Ginny found herself still staring at Draco, and as much as she wanted to avert her eyes from his heated gaze, she just couldn't bring herself to do it.  
  
Finally, Dippy spoke. Well, Dippy supposes he has to tell sooner or laterDippy was helping prepare the breakfast—pumpkin juice he was making—and by accident he bumps into a long pipe and it breaks. Odd, reallyDippy thinks pipes should be stronger. Anyway, he thinks they is important pipes, so he goes to inform the main elf of what happened. But while he was gone Dippy could not finish his sentence, as a sudden sobbing wail escaped his lips. It was terrible, Miss. All Dippy can say is that he hopes very much that you did not drink any of the pumpkin juice after what fell in it from the pipes!  
  
Ginny paled. _The pumpkin juice—it had tasted funny when she drank it_.  
  
Draco Malfoy seemed on the same track as she was. So, you mean to tell me that you served _poisonous_ pumpkin juice at Hogwarts? His voice was careful and unfazed, and Ginny was impressed that he hadn't lost his temper yet.  
  
No, not Dippy! It was another elf who served the drink.  
  
Yes, but the point is that I'm poisoned and--  
  
Ginny didn't wait to hear the rest of Malfoy's statement. Look, I still don't understand. Exactly _how_ are we poisoned?  
  
A deep and booming voice from the doorway. I believe I can answer that, Miss Weasley,   
  
There stood Professor Dumbledore peering from above his half moon spectacles, a grave expression on his aged face.   
  
Ginny exclaimed, wondering how long he had been standing there. The sight of the elderly wizard clad in his deep blue robes filled her with hope, but also reminded her that this situation must really be serious. _If Dumbledore is here then things can't be good. I really am intoxicated...  
_  
Good morning, Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. You seem to have been the only two early birds this morning, but unfortunately on this day the early bird does not catch the worm, in a manner of speaking. His eyes seemed to twinkle for a split second before he continued.  


As I'm sure you've heard from Dippy, when he left to find the Main House-Elf and inform him pipe breakage, some of the contents from the pipe spilled into the juice—sludge, dust, sewage—that sort of thing. Unfortunately, another elf noticed no one tending to the juice and being the good house elf that she was, she mixed the pot herself, completely oblivious to what had fallen in. When the beverage was finished she sent it up to the Hogwarts Kitchens. We have removed all of the pumpkin juice from Hogwarts grounds, so luckily, you and Mr. Malfoy have been the only ones affected.  
  
Ginny couldn't believe her ears. _Sewage?_ She had just drank an entire glass of _sewage_?   
  
Draco hissed, interrupting her thoughts. Lucky! You're calling me lucky? I've just been poisoned—for all you know I'll die. I'll have you know that my father will be informed immediately--wait until he hears. He'll have your job for this, you know.  
  
Professor Dumbledore sighed softly. Mr. Malfoy, please calm yourself down. You are not going to die. In fact, I've just informed Madame Pomfrey of your and Miss Weasley's state, and she'll have you fixed up in no time at--.  
  
I don't think you understand, professor. I may be perfectly fine today, but who knows what else you and that poor excuse for a house elf might cook up another time? Tomorrow night I may be served poisonous treacle! Next Wednesday it'll be poisonous stew! The least you can do is present that fucking disgrace of a house elf with clothes.  
  
Language, Mr. Malfoy," warned Professor Dumbledore, although he did not seem very upset. "Now, both of you, go off to the infirmary before Madame Pomfrey has a nervous break-down.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
Did it taste bad?  
  
Did you know it was poisonous?  
  
Are you all right?  
  
Does your stomach hurt?  
  
Questions flooded a drowsy Ginny Weasley as she sat in the infirmary bed, a pack of concerned faces around her. Malfoy was in a matching twin bed next to her own, but she couldn't catch a glimpse of him with everyone in her way. It was making her nervous, the way there were some students here that were looking anxiously at her, although she had never spoken to them in her life.  
  
Ron's freckled face emerged in the crowd.  
  
Give Ginny some space! Come on, move it, Dean, she needs breathing room.  
  
Dean and the others shuffled out of the way, and Ginny noticed that her nightstand was packed with an assortment of candies and Get Well cards that must have turned up along with all these students an hour ago.  
  
Ron, really, I'm all right. Ginny said. She had told the crowd that she was fine eight times so far this morning, but no one had listened. For a bunch of people that were supposed to be concerned, it seemed that they just wanted to know all the technicolor details of her poisoning. They didn't want to hear that it was just a minor stomach ache and that she'd be back on her feet in no time—they wanted to hear that she was gravely ill and it was all somehow Malfoy's fault.  
  
So, what did it taste like? Finnigan asked, obviously hoping to hear that the pumpkin juice had been dreadful.  
  
It didn't taste that bad. It only was slightly off in flavor—  
  
Yes, but afterwards you must have felt terrible!  
  
Ginny sighed. "No, I was fine afterwards because Madame Pomfrey gave me an antidote."  
  
"Yes, but your stomach must be hurting!"  
  
Ginny groaned inwardly. This was not working at all--she didn't want to be questioned, she just wanted to be left alone.  
  
Look, as much as I appriciate all of you coming down here, I'm fine, really I am. I just need some rest.  
  
Luckily, at that exact moment Madame Pomfrey bustled in, and upon hearing Ginny's words almost threw a temper tantrum. Can't you see that my patients need peace and quiet? Get out of here! Go on! You can visit her this afternoon, after classes if you want to  
  
_Classes!_ Ginny got to miss all of her classes for the day._ At least that's one good thing about today. The only problem is that I have to spend my one day off with that slimy git, Malfoy.  
_  
Speaking of Malfoy, now that the her visitors had cleared out, she could see Malfoy laying only a few feet away, a sheet covering most of his body. Despite the way Ginny felt about him, she couldn't help admitting to herself that he really looked nice with his blond hair all mussed and the way he was laying in bed. He was facing the ceiling, but his eyes were shut. _I wonder if he's sleeping_Ginny thought to herself, quickly regretting the thought. Who cares if he was sleeping or not? Certainly not her!  
  
I'm not asleep, Weasley. Draco said, startling Ginny like a caught deer. Could he have somehow read her mind? How was that possible? _He can't be reading my mind...he's just a good guesser, I suppose_.  
  
Ginny cleared her throat. Good for you, Malfoy.  
  
I only let you know, Weasley, because it makes me uncomfortable when you stare at me like I'm the last lemon drop in the box. Although, I must admit I'm glad you like what you see.  
  
Ginny could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Go away, Malfoy, she said, knowing that it sounded childish.  
  
How can I, Weasley? I'm suffering from poison and I need my rest just as much as you do.  
  
How much pumpkin juice did you drink, anyway? Ginny asked, curious.   
  
I thought you wanted me to leave you alone. Malfoy drawled, a smirk right back on his face. For a Gryffindor, you're rather hypocritical.  
  
Ginny fought back the urge to jump out of bed and slap him flat across the face. Trying to calm down, she shrugged her infirmary sheets closer around her shoulders. At least I'm no liar,  
  
Liar?" Draco scoffed. "Tell me, Weasely, when have I lied to you? Draco's eyes connected with hers, and she quickly looked away. If you're referring to my calling you a hypocrite I'm afraid it's called the truth'.  
  
You know what I'm talking about, Malfoy. Remember the demiguise hair this morning? I was busy writing down what you told me like a good little girl. That is, until I realized the truth--that you lied to me. You just wanted me to get a failing mark. And to think I almost believed you!  
  
Draco was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was calm and collected. I was telling the truth that time, Weasley. Go look in the Library, if you don't believe me.   
  
Ginny turned and looked into his hypnotizing eyes. They looked more honest then she had ever seen them before. But then again, knowing Malfoy, it was all part of his plan. Fine, I will.  
  
Ginny Weasley made a promise to herself that first thing the next morning she would go to the library and catch that ferret in his tracks.  
  
  
_Author's Note : I hope I didn't leave too much of a cliffhanger! Please take a small moment of your time to review, I would love to hear any of your questions, comments, concerns, flamings, etc. Any type of review is welcomed—I would just love to hear something from you!.   
  
_  



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